‘David, Gaby’s brother, I never knew him. He’d gone off travelling by the time I met Gaby. She sent him an email when we were getting married but he never came. And then, the tsunami – well, it was dreadful. Gaby was in such a state.’ He stopped for a moment, as though reliving the memory. ‘To start with, you know, she refused to give up hope. She thought he’d maybe had a knock to the head, lost his memory, something like that. But as time went on she accepted he probably wasn’t coming back.’ He smiled. ‘Having David declared dead was a big step for Gaby. But, in a way, it gave her permission to move on.’ He paused for a moment then said, ‘We thought he’d been dead since 2004 but Gaby only counts it from the day of the declaration.’

‘You say you thought…’ Clare said, and Luke gave a slight nod.

‘You’re very perceptive.’

Clare took her time framing the next question. ‘Is David Fox still alive?’

He hesitated, then he said, ‘Alive and well, Inspector. And guilty of murder.’

Chris sat forward in his seat. ‘Where is David now?’

‘I don’t know.’ He looked from Clare to Chris. ‘I honestly don’t.’ He met Chris’s gaze for a few seconds then he carried on. ‘Gaby told me that David was alive. Not only was he alive but he was on his way to our cottage. That was the phone call.’ He glanced at his solicitor. ‘I couldn’t believe it. After all these years.’

‘When did Gaby find out?’ Clare asked.

He shrugged. ‘She said she’d known for a few months but David had sworn her to secrecy. It was to be a surprise for Russell’s birthday, you know?’ He sipped his water again and went on. ‘But then she got the news about Russell – that he was ill – and she was upset all over again. She said the doctors couldn’t do anything for him. It was only a matter of time. So she decided we’d have a party at Lamond Lodge. Invite his friends, have a last blowout before he became too ill to enjoy it.

‘But then she became obsessed.’ He nodded as if to reinforce this. ‘She’s like that, Gaby. Probably why she’s so successful. She gets fixated on something and she can’t let go.’

‘What was she obsessing about?’ Clare asked.

‘Russell’s illness. His tumour. I swear, Inspector, she knew as much as the doctors. And she said the end – for Russell, I mean – that it wouldn’t be pleasant. How it would spread, affect him. How he’d be incapacitated, and she cried and cried about it. It got so bad I suggested she see her GP. Get something to calm her down, you know?’

‘And did she?’